


Blood on the World's Hands

by johnwatsonblog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, St Bartholomew's Hospital
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:23:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnwatsonblog/pseuds/johnwatsonblog
Summary: Blood being painted on walls of the rich and well known, their bodies left without a single mark and still in possession of what they cherish most. What is the killer trying to tell Lestrade?





	1. Atonement

**Author's Note:**

> Will try to update on a weekly basis, maybe a Thursday as its my day off!

My shuddered breaths were all I could hear as I ran through the darkness and my brain was just concentrating on getting somewhere safe. Somewhere I could phone the police. The leaves crunching underneath my feet then echoed in my ears, the chill deceiving me with my breath being clearly visible for my attacker. It was like a bright red dot had been painted on my back and my heels had come in handy before when he’d gotten close enough to drag me to the floor. The 6 inches had found their new profession before being abandoned in his clutches.

I ignored the voice from behind telling me that there was nobody to help me, my heart thumping to the ground along with my body when a small branch in the park had decided to cause de ja vu by grabbing my ankle. I scrambled through the leaves and I was back on my toes as the hard blow came to the back of my head. My awareness then jolted to my body being dragged back through the park in its dazed state, my arms stuck at my side and the cold floor of the back of a van made me shiver and recoil at the same point. This is what I’ve always been warned about with being out by myself after dark. I’ve always ignored my friends concerns but I wish I hadn’t.

My eyes had only shut for a moment as we were then back at my estate, the bulked out man carrying me into the living room to lie me down on the sofa. It all seemed very gentle and cautious until he started tying my wrists down with bricks on the floor. He did the same with my ankles, my mouth being stuffed with cotton wool along with tape over it. It was only gasping through my nose that stopped me from suffocating.

“Are you afraid of a little prick Mrs. Astley?”

The voice was sweet yet unnerving, my skin feeling his touch immediately from where he was still stood in the doorway. I struggled against the rope but it was muffled out from the laughs coming from the beast beside me. The other pair of hands that had once been dragging me through the woods were now striding towards me and he almost looked like a businessman with the crisp suit that hugged him. His hair was charcoal black and swept back with gel, his eyes never leaving me and I saw my reflection in them when he pushed his face into mine.

“Now, this shouldn’t hurt a bit…”

* * *

 

"2460?" Blared the radio from where it was sitting in the cup holder,

"Yeah, go ahead control..." the detective inspector replied,

"Noise disturbance, 25 Edgware road, report came in from an elderly neighbor who said she could hear people shouting at one another, possible domestic abuse disturbance, over”

Greg sighed after the radio had crackled off, him seeing the time was just inching past 2am and he still had 6 hours to go until the end of his shift. He’d been partnered with a rookie that couldn’t even get a pair of handcuffs on a suspect and now a noise disturbance report was all he needed.

“Loud and clear control, me and PC Mills are on route, over…”

“Arent we going to call back up? There could be a house full of thugs with weapons...” PC Mills piped up anxiously,

“We’ll call back up once we’ve gotten a statement from the elderly neighbor about what she’s heard, see if we can hear anything ourselves and make sure those in the flat don’t bolt from seeing lights or hearing our sirens…”

“What if she just speaks a load of shit? Gets confused, it won’t exactly be great evidence and it doesn’t look like she explained much to control either”

“That’s why we talk to the caller ourselves Mills, control only give us so many details so we can get there quickly” Greg sighed,

The pair made sure to keep their lights and sirens off as they approached the estate and parked out of plain sight from anyone that could be looking out the window. The black uniform of the force worked in their favor in the late hour, him hearing a small thudding rhythm that he guessed was the loud music coming from the suspect flat.

The elderly neighbor happily let them in, even with bleary eyes and they just needed to write down what sort of times the noise had been going on from to when they arrived. PC Mills even went as far as getting a good recording on her bodycam of the shouting and the DI only heard male voices so was thinking it was either drunks or druggies living next door to this lovely old lady. She was just shuffling into the kitchen to grab some biscuits when back up arrived, Greg quickly waving at her in the doorway and darted out to join Sergeant Donovan who had the red key at her disposal.

They all stood frozen for a moment before the door was bashed in, most of the officers rushing in through the wall of marijuana that threatened to knock them out.

“Police! Stay where you are! Stay exactly where you are!”

“Dangerous weapon over here boss”

“couple grams of crack cocaine over here…”

“Cuff everyone here and we’ll sort out evidence, few familiar faces here is well, alright Jameson?” Greg stood at the living room door, smirking at one pale male already on the sofa with his hands behind his back who instantly spat back at him,

“Bloody Mrs. Peters next door--“

“--That 2 grams of Crack Cocaine belongs to Michael Jameson, the 4-inch blade being Jack Reachers and that is all that you’re going to find in this flat--”

“--Shut up Sherloc’, you snitch, you’re the one who asked me to come round with the shit… you didn’t say nothin’ about police being ‘ere!-”

“-Alright children, it doesn’t matter who’s it is as you’re all as high as kites, you’ll be brought in for possession and dealing charges that I expect will give you a few weeks inside to learn what your parents should have taught you long ago!”

Greg then had to bark to get all of their attention, the 6 men being hauled into the van with Sherlock having to squeeze into the back of his police car. He was relieved when they were finally off towards Scotland Yard and PC Mills seemed more tranquil.

“How long ago did your wife leave you…. Detective Inspector?” came from the back seat,

“Excuse me?”

“Your wife… how long ago did your wife leave you?... Oh come on, it’s obvious”

“Just shut up or I’ll shut your mouth up for you...” he warned,

“The faded tan line on the digitus medicinalis but brown skin suggests that our detective inspector has recently returned from holiday but left his ring at home, it usually taking at least 6 months for a ring indentation to start fading and from the look of his finger, Lestrade hasn’t worn it for at least 8… with the addition of a suit that barely fits him, dust or mold on his right trouser leg and the lack of cologne… there isn’t anybody to try for anymore…”

“Is that true, sir?”

“You’ll learn in this job Mills that suspects speak all kinds of bollocks to try to get under your skin, just block it out…”

“Pathetic excuse Detective Inspector, the bags under your eyes are not new, so sleep is not something you rush home to have, maybe the loneliness is getting to you and even though police officers are prone to exhaustion, the lack of colour in your cheeks tells me that you work as many shifts as you can to avoid your flat--“

“Sir, this is all very specific---“

“--Just ignore it Mills, we’re nearly at the yard”

Greg had mumbled through gritted teeth, the next 10 minutes being the longest 10 minutes he’d ever had in a police car with Sherlock explaining more to Mills about his failed marriage. He avoided her eyes as the suspects were put through and he was just about to find the nearest coffee machine when a sharp voice cut him off from wandering farther down the corridor.

“Detective Inspector Lestrade, I am here to pick up my brother and I would appreciate you showing me which cell he occupies at this hour”

“Well, you’ll have to speak to the desk sergeant for that, I, on the other hand, am going to find our pathetic excuse for coffee”

“I shall join your company then and you can explain what exactly my brother did to get arrested… again”

“Look, I don’t know who you think you are but I’ve been awake for nearly 24 hours and you, as I said, can speak to the desk sergeant!” Greg snapped,

Both of the men looked over at the now empty desk and it caused the detective inspector to sigh and then wave at the younger man to follow him. He did see the resemblance between the two, the hollowed out cheeks which then punctuated the blue eyes in Sherlock, and then the green in his brother. Sherlock didn’t have a next of kin put down on his records but it would be pretty stupid for another drug addict to waltz in to a police station claiming to be his brother just to get him back out on the street. So he let it slide.

The suit especially screamed Kensington and a price range he would usually earn in about 5 years. The hands were barely worn, nails trimmed and he unconsciously splayed his right hand out in front of him to then shove back in his pocket.

“Who was my brother with when you found him?” the brother asked,

“Few regular drug addicts that I’ve picked up a few times… friends of his, are they?”

“Unfortunately so”

“How often do you bail him out?”

“Oh, once or twice a month if it’s a good month, if it’s a bad one then at least once a week and from different stations. Not just the yard”

“He gave us a fake name so had to use our little fingerprint scanner to catch the idiot out” Greg smirked,

“What name did he use?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow,

“Mycroft Holmes”

“Oh for god’s sake…”

“What? Who is it?”

“You really have to ask?”

The detective inspector rolled his eyes when it clicked and even though it made sense that he would use his brother’s name, it still annoyed him with his monumental headache not easing up. He was thankful however when they sat in the corner and he could easily smell Mycroft’s coffee was the same as his own. It was soothing to him for some reason until the elder Holmes sibling spoke up.

“May I ask how long you’ve been without a wedding ring?”

“May I ask how many drug charges your brother actually has?” he mimicked the man’s voice, his eyebrow raising itself,

“You don’t seem the sort of person to be so…… “

“I would choose your next words carefully if you want your brother out by morning”

“…Aggressive”

Greg looked up from the rim of his plastic cup, those green eyes looking straight through him and even though it didn’t intimidate him, he knew Mycroft could see that he’d not eaten all shift. He’d not eaten a proper meal for days and he’d stopped going to his therapist. He kept his eyes however and tried to soften his expression to show the man that this had just been a bad 24 hours.

“No, being physically awake for 24 hours isn’t something I usually do if I can help it” he smiled weakly,

“I understand the high demand for one’s presence in my own profession and its only my assistant Anthea that keeps me from being awake for three days straight”

“What do you do?”

“A minor position in the department of transport” he said,

“Bollocks”

“My actual position is having fingers in a lot of pies but a classified one at that,”

“Would you have to kill me if I knew?” Greg joked and saw the faintest of smiles on the man’s face,

“Not quite but my name is kept out of the public eye because of the nature of my conferences and meetings”

“Wish I could do that but it seems everyone wants a part of me--“

“--Detective Inspector?” Mills called from across the café,

“Sherlock Holmes is requesting you sir, urgently, he says he has information about the greenhouse killer, he is being pretty specific with details again”

Greg sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring his stomach begging him for anything to eat,

“I needed to stretch my legs again anyway and we can talk about bail for him… maybe”

His eyes flickered over to Mycroft before he followed the PC to the cells. He ignored the elder Holmes shoes tapping behind him and saw Sherlock already pacing his cell when it was hauled open. Greg saw his eyes go to his brother and then roll, him spinning so his back was turned to them.

“I believe you have some information for me?” he said,

“I have information Scotland yard should have figured out weeks ago from the crime scene, the trowel with no fingerprints on it was because of the gardening gloves and you would have found one of those with all the forensic evidence you’d ever need if you’d looked over the fence into the _neighbor’s garden_!” Sherlock spat with a wave,

“So you’ve been tampering with _evidence and a crime scene_?”

“That’s not the point Inspector! Your killer is the daughter of Katherine Limmer who found out that the victim, Richard Paige, was having an affair with her mother and deceiving her father plus Mrs. Paige… it’s all very simple if you looked at how Mrs. Limmer was acting around Mrs. Paige when they found out about Richard’s death”

“The daughter of Mrs. Limmer, Jamie, was in Edinburgh at the time of the murder, we spoke to the hotel where she was staying and they confirmed the name along with descriptions of a blonde, 6ft woman and a black haired, 6ft ish man that were staying there over the weekend that Mr. Paige was killed… It was her and her boyfriend Ollie” the inspector cut in,

“And that’s where Scotland Yard failed to realize that her so called ‘boyfriend’ had actually gone to Edinburgh without her and had taken her best friend Alice, who is also 6ft along with Blonde hair, the CCTV conveniently being grainy on that evening so I suggest talking to this Ollie individual”

Greg’s brain had only just kept up with what Sherlock was theorizing and to him, it was a jumble that did make sense. They should have figured this out weeks ago and his sleep deprived body slumped against the door frame with realization that it was him as well as his team that had missed this. A drug addict had picked it up without even knowing all the facts.

“Is my brother’s bail now discussable now Detective Inspector?” Mycroft asked


	2. Small Details

 

He acted as the desk sergeant to process Sherlock through for dealing charges, them having no evidence for possession so he was left with a fine that was to be agreed later in court. He was flinging his coat over his shoulders as all 6 of the suspects picked up at the house were either being released or being settled into other cells for the evening. Mycroft caught him at his car door, his head telling him to walk but he felt awake enough to drive.

“Allow me to give you a lift home, you’re sleep deprived and Im sure Scotland Yard wouldn’t like to be awoken at 6am with the report of a road traffic collision because you’ve fallen asleep at the wheel”

“Im fine, I’ve driven after a 36-hour shift before and didn’t hit anyone” Greg waved him off,

“I do insist after what you did for my brother and also for the safety of the general public on their way to work…” he said,

Mycroft stepped over so he could shut the DI’s car door and the driver of his own car pulled them into the back with a concerned glance over his shoulder at Greg. The slow pace through London was meant to give the pair another chance to talk but the DI spent 90% of the journey with his eyes shut listening to the gentle noises of the engine until a small murmur was placed in his ear about them being at his flat. He dragged himself out, shutting the door and didn’t remember much from that point apart from collapsing into his bed.

* * *

 Red was painted immaculately on the old, worn down walls of the living room in the 18th century summer house. No path had been created where they entered, and no path had been left. It had been pasted on with a thick, but fine paintbrush and by the little waves and curls made in the red, it was done by fan brushes or some filberts. Even at the skirting boards, someone had gone along and made sure not even one drop had been spilt onto the wooden floorboards beneath. This would have been the only potential evidence that would have given them away. They wanted to impress and they wanted to do this task properly. There was a natural air freshener of iron, a pale cream carpet that was immaculately spotless.

Someone wanted to redecorate to make a statement, a warning to whoever found it. Every item; the grandfather clock with a sprinkling of dust, the mirror placed gently about the dining room set, the fauna hiding in the corner. Not a single thing out of place. No sign of disturbance. The dust had made its home on the wooden furniture, even setting up mini camps on the vines of the Ellen Danica. Just a single purple candle was placed precariously in the middle of the wooden floorboards of the living room. His eyes paced about as he completed his duty. His God-given duty. His lips spoke for him as they shouted a smirk at the room, given the satisfaction in his heart a little time to shine in the limelight. He didn’t even need to think about what to do next as his heels instantly caught on the grains, turned him and led him out the door. With the body placed perfectly in the armchair, he knew the police would be absolutely clueless to how someone could pull off the perfect murder. Not leaving a single piece of evidence, not a single mark on the victim. The suited 6ft man waltzed out the door with a spring in his step and had planned the amount of days until Scotland Yard would get a call from a concerned friend that not hearing or seeing Lady Astley was so out of character. He slid into the backseat of his all black SUV, his second hand man looking into the rear view mirror.

“All done Boss?” Moran bared his teeth in a grin,

“Absolutely, they won’t find a shred of evidence and will soon find the gift of my efforts in the bitch’s armchair” he beamed,

“Excellent Sir, onto the next one?”

He responded with a nod and had always wanted to get the attention of the whole of Scotland Yard rather than just a few measly police officers arresting him for Moran to then pay the bail 3 hours later. His fingers drummed against his knee, his attention then being pulled away to his phone buzzing against his leg.

* * *

 

Greg couldn’t remember whether he’d said anything to Mycroft as he was stumbling out of his car like a drunk and glared at the streetlight creeping through his blinds as he raised his head. He fumbled around for his phone on the floor, his eyes still closed as he plugged it into the charger and soon heard a few notification sounds engulf his room.

[unknown number] 8:00am- I do hope you made it into your flat safely, I contacted the magistrates court and they agreed on a £900 approximate fine for Sherlock. I wanted to thank you for not taking it any further. MH

[unknown number] 1:34pm: I recommend something with a lot of carbs in it since you’ve not eaten a proper meal for 3 days straight. Sandwiches and coffee with a single sugar won’t be efficient for much longer. MH

[unknown number] 5:08pm: I do also recommend not sleeping more than 13 hours to keep your body clock somewhat normal. MH

He was squinting at the unknown number for longer than he should have before he remembered sitting having coffee with a suspect’s brother just 12 hours ago. His fingers scraped through his hair, him trying to pull a single thought out of his head.

[Reply]6:04pm: How did you get this number? GL

[Mycroft] 6:06pm: Simple record check. MH

[Reply] 6:10pm: Really? GL

[Mycroft] 6:13pm: Yes. MH

[Mycroft] 6:14pm: Your PC on shift might have given it to me, saying, and I quote, ‘Just in case you need to check that he’s alive’ MH

[Reply] 6:20pm: I am alive, just collapsed into bed when I got in so you can reassure PC Mills that Im fine, don’t know why she’s concerned. GL

A reply had been sent to Mycroft saying that he didn’t have to worry about not taking Sherlock’s drug charges further because he’d solved their most irritating case, silence being his answer. Greg eventually dragged himself from the comforting covers and his movements were now automatic to make himself a sandwich as his body was still adjusting to him being awake. As he was just sitting down to skim through his work emails, his whole body feeling heavy, his phone screaming in his ear jolted him back to feeling like a human.

“Lestrade?” he answered professionally,

“Detectivvvvv…. Inspector, I, I need… help”

“Sherlock? How did you get this number?”

“Irrelevant, help, I ne-need it-“

Greg jumped into a pair of jeans, a jumper going over his head and he was then out the door. He tried the best he could to obey the laws of the road but Sherlock sounded like he was slurring and he didn’t have a clue if the kid had any medical conditions. He jumped up the stairs of the house he’d previously occupied, ignoring other tenants grumbling over his badge and burst into the only room that had the door shut.

Sherlock was splayed out on the floor like a rag doll, shirt sleeves rolled up halfway up the bicep, shoes and socks abandoned. He didn’t spot the needle until he nearly leant his knee on it so he flung it across the room so he could hear if the idiot was breathing or not. The inspector checked his pulse and had 999 on the phone in a heartbeat. It was his work head kicking in.

“Sherlock, stay with me, helps on the way” he said,

“Don, Don’t tell Mycroft”

The younger Holmes brother had also mumbled something inaudible before he shut his eyes properly and the paramedics were immediately hauling him onto a stretcher. Apparently they’d been to this house a lot in the last few weeks, Sherlock not being one of the regulars so that made Greg drive a little faster than he was meant to.

He did think about the needle he’d found by his body and had wondered whether the kid was into any of that stuff when Sherlock had been dragged into Scotland Yard. He flashed his badge at a blonde behind reception, him trying to see if they had a number for his brother but just gave in when she’d found another piece of gum from under the desk to start chewing.

He did find Sherlock eventually yet was made to wait outside to pace, it a horrible mixture of worry, panic and stress when he didn’t even know the guy. He wasn’t related to him and had just muttered that he was a friend to doctors.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Mycroft said tightly,

Greg turned to see Sherlock’s brother stomping towards him and he wasn’t easily intimidated so kept his eye until he’d passed to peer into Sherlock’s room.

“I didn’t have your number, funnily enough, and neither did the hospital, I would have if you’d actually given it to me” he said,

For a moment he saw Mycroft’s face ease with walls dropping, vulnerability in his eyes as he obviously ran through what could have happened to his baby brother. It was undeniable that they didn’t have the best relationship and he soon saw the rigid face again. The eyes back to black, piercing at the Inspector who was still watching a nurse fidgeting with fluid bags.

“You really should have called me as soon as you found him like this”

“Like I said, I didn’t have your number and I had to get him to hospital- I was just going to sort it all out once I knew he was alright”  

“You didn’t think to look in his phone, ask the owner of the house who was there when you kicked her door down or even go as far as looking _at your own_ _phone_ where I messaged you a number of times this morning” Mycroft said,

It made Greg’s heart sink to the floor because it would have been the first thing his training would have taught him to do once the person was stable. Always notify the family. He wiped his face with both hands, his eyes meeting Mycroft’s again when he felt like he could meet them without feeling brainless.

“Im sorry, I should have phoned you when I got here but up until about a minute ago, I didn’t know what Sherlock’s condition was- whether he’d overdosed or even if this was because of a condition”

“You failed to look at his file within your resources at Scotland Yard? You really are not living up to the expectations from your superiors and the media, are you?”

“I did look at his file as soon as I woke up this evening but it hadn’t been updated in a couple years and from what I’d seen, it didn’t mention the drug use either”

Greg folded his arms across his chest, both of the men having to stay out in the corridor while Sherlock was being looked over. His brother had shuffled down the corridor again to make a phone call to their parents and he then had the chance to go in himself to see what damage had done. He was half glad the younger Holmes brother was asleep because he would have strangled him to death otherwise.

The Inspector scrolled through his phone with a few looks over Sherlock’s vitals every now and then until Mycroft stepped into the room with the same grace that he left with. He looked less angry, less wound up and more concerned, like the walls creating a façade had been smashed to rubble. He wondered why it was only in front of him that the elder Holmes brother chose to let his vulnerability show.

“Are your parents on their way?” he asked,

“Yes, they should be within the hour, my brother is lucky that they were in the West End…”

“What were they seeing?”

“Les Miserable of course, its mummy’s favourite” Mycroft smiled weakly only to put his eyes back on Sherlock again,

“Bring Him Home seems very fitting in these circumstances, eh?”

Greg joked to try to ease the tension and he saw the other man’s lips curl up into a more genuine smile than what he’d worn before. He’d only seen that sort of smile on the two occasions that they had been alone to talk, his hand massaging his neck where he’d not even thought about another man since his teens.

Mr. and Mrs. Holmes arrived just as he was returning from the café with coffee for them both and with the body language he saw through the door, he decided to leave Mycroft’s on the side to get some fresh air.

He was still planning to go to work the next day but he wanted to stay long enough to hear what the prognosis was for Sherlock. The inspector stubbed out his last cigarette from his packet, him only allowing himself three a day now to cut down and was about to start heading home when he saw Mycroft struggling to light one up himself in the doorway of the hospital. He didn’t hesitate wandering over to click his own lighter to the man’s hands.

“Thank you, I thought you were quitting?” Mycroft muttered,

“Im down to three a day now and I’ve just smoked them all while I’ve been out here”

“How long have you been smoking for?”

“Been smokin’ since I was 17 and now Im 41, thought it was about time that I started cutting down”

“It wasn’t your doctor warning you over the possible decline of your lungs filling with tar?”

“He played a part,” Greg smirked, “But I just rely too much on them when Im stressed and if it means I can run a bit faster to catch criminals, I’ll do it”

The silence was quite natural as they merely stood together and let the cigarette burn out to put them in darkness again. Both of them moved in unison for the door, reaching for the handle and it was the inspector to pull his own back so Mycroft could head in. Greg joined him mainly to get out of the chill yet he was still looking up at the other man to notice every freckle on his nose. The small crow’s feet around his eyes as he frowned at the corridor, his parents appearing from his brother’s room making him stiffen again.

“I believe that is my cue to take my parent’s home, I believe you should do the same- I will keep you updated on my brother’s condition if you wish”

“Uh, yeah, yeah, sure, I think he’s a bright kid and only wish the best for him” Greg snapped out of his stare, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes turning the attention away from his burning face. He made a little cough and scrubbed a hand through his matted hair.

“Mike, where is that blasted doctor that’s meant to be looking after your brother?” Wanda Holmes barked, husband in tow,

“I don’t know Mummy, he said something about retrieving blood and urine test results for Sherlock”

“That was 20 minutes ago, he should be back by now… Who is this looking rather sheepish and like he shouldn’t be there?”

Wanda Holmes had flapped her hand in the general direction of the inspector but it was Mr. Holmes that smiled at him, trying to ease the tension between the three of them.

“This is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, the individual who found Sherlock and stayed with him in the ambulance…,” Mycroft places his hands behind his back and pointed his chin upwards, “He was also the one who put him through at Scotland Yard so it was only a dealing charge that I had to deal with”

“Well, have you thanked him for that and getting your brother into hospital so quickly?” Timothy Holmes chipped in,

“Not-Not exactly, father”

Both of his parents tilted their heads in the direction of Greg who had just been rocking back and forth on his heels waiting for someone to address him. He met Mycroft’s eyes once again, trying to hold back a large smirk where he looked like a kid that had been told to apologize to another child while all the parents watched.

“Detective Inspector---“

“---Greg”

“Greg, I would like to thank you for dropping certain charges from Sherlock’s record but for also bringing him in so quickly today, we don’t know if anybody would have found in time so we owe you a debt of gratitude”

“It’s nothing really, it’s my job”  

Greg smirked and folded his arms across his chest so he wouldn’t completely burst out into a grin. He knew he would pay for this later but just couldn’t help winding the elder Holmes brother up, Mycroft’s eyes narrowed until his mother roped her arm through her sons. That almost broke him.

“Thank you so much Detective Inspector, if there’s anything we can do for you, you don’t hesitate to ask, Mike will give you our number,” Wanda beamed at him, scowling for a minute up at her son who then nodded along with her, “Sherlock should be awake tomorrow morning so you make sure to get home for some rest dear”

“I will, thankyou Mrs. Holmes, make sure you guys get home safe too...”

The inspector finally had to let out a booming laugh as the Holmes family braved the chill he’d one escaped from and he took a quick look at Sherlock still sleeping to know he could head home.


	3. Making assumptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter but thankyou for all the Kudos, bookmarks and comments! Please share wherever you can!

Greg felt like he’d just fallen asleep when his alarm went off and he ignored messages already on his phone as he showered, changed, and made some attempt at a normal breakfast to get back into a routine. He found eyes already on him when he walked into the yard, coffee in his hand, Sergeant Donovan halting him halfway to his office.

“There’s someone in your office and he looks like he’s from pretty high up, better prepare for a bollocking”

“How long has he been there?”

Greg peered over her shoulder, seeing a flick of ginger hair and he was wracking his brain to recognize who it was by the back of their head.

“Half an hour or so, said he knew you and just needed a word…” she said,

He took a large gulp of his coffee as some sort of liquid luck as he left Sally at her desk and gripped the handle a little more than necessary when he stepped inside the door.  The breath he had been holding was diminished as soon as Mycroft turned his head an inch to the left, the inspector recognizing the more pointed chin and green eye.

“Ah, Inspector, I do hope you got home at a reasonable hour last night” he said,

“Uh, yeah, how’s Sherlock doing?”

“My brother seems to be recovering well, even if he is driving the nurses and doctors up the wall- but this is more of a private matter, so, if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door”

The Inspector now had the thought that he was actually about to be bollocked by Mycroft yet pushed himself down onto his chair to look at the other man dumbly. He waved for him to go on, their eyes meeting and it was tense minute before he spoke.

“Sherlock, is a very… _unique individual_ and I believe it is time that someone were to keep a more permanent eye on him while I try to find him more suitable living arrangements” Mycroft said,

“Right…" 

“Since he solved one of your most, in your words, ‘annoying’ cases, I thought he might be able to be of use to you here, be an extra pair of hands where Scotland Yard is lacking”

“I won’t give him cases to just keep an eye on your brother, if that’s what you’re asking...” Greg huffed,

“Im sure I can find a figure that would push your lifestyle into the more, let’s just say, comfortable”

He watched as Mycroft pulled out a cheque book and he felt his head shaking, the anger starting to bubble in his gut. He marched over to the door to swing it open, trying not to look out at his colleagues who had snapped their heads up like meerkats who’d just been alerted to a predator.

“I don’t want any of your fucking _money_ , I don’t want to _spy_ on your brother and you can fucking keep him away from me and our cases if that’s what you offer people to keep an eye on him. We’re not a baby sitting service and if you’d just asked for Sherlock to _observe at a crime scene_ or _have a cold case file_ , then I would have agreed”

“Believe me, it was never my intention to offend you in any way-“

“-Well, you have, so please can you leave?”

Greg clenched his hands by his side, managing to get a few breaths out as the elder Holmes brother slowly crept through the office with a few whispers scattered around him. Sally had begun to move towards the DI’s office but his hand being held out to stop her told her that he had the situation under control.

“What on earth was that about?” She asked,

“Just a small disagreement, don’t worry 'bout it" 

His team knew to stay clear after the way Mycroft had slipped out from his office and they made it easy enough so their boss could cool down in his office. The DI took his frustration out on a stress ball Sally had hilariously bought him for Christmas, his afternoon then taking him on a walk round to St Bart’s Hospital.

The inspector had originally found Sherlock dozing with a doctor fussing around him but returned 10 minutes later to find him sat up in bed with his legs crossed, fingers poised under his chin and he hesitated entering in case the kid had wanted some time to himself to think.

“Didn’t your parents tell you it was rude to eavesdrop, Inspector?”

“Yes but I didn’t know whether you were thinking or just needed some private time,” Greg grinned and could hear the other man roll his eyes, “How are you feeling?”

“As well as someone who is recovering from septicemia can feel”

“Do they know how you got blood poisoning?”

“It was from the continuous use of dirty needles that had caused an infection in my arm and then it had gotten into my blood stream- the normal shot of Heroin that I usually take, unfortunately, had a bad reaction with the infection that was already coursing through my veins” Sherlock muttered,

“So I got there just in time, eh?”

“It would seem and if you’re just here to give me a parentally lecture about drugs, I can tell you that I’ve already had one so there’s no need for you to be here”

“I actually came to talk to you about your drug addiction, what you’re doing living in that squalor when your brother can easily find you somewhere more suitable to live”

“Again, don’t need the parental lecture and I don’t have a drug addiction, I perfectly regulate the right amount for my body weight and height”

“Yeah, that’s obvious by what state you’re in now”

Greg folded his arms and watched Sherlock shuffle off to the bathroom to give the hospital a urine sample, him ending up scrolling through his emails until he was joined again by the patient and a random doctor.

“Look, I’ve found a doctor that needs to examine me again, that means you have to leave Detective Inspector”

“Im sure he won’t mind if I just stay to see when you’ll be let out,” He looked over at the doctor who seemed very anxious around his patient and it didn’t take a genius like Sherlock Holmes to realize what had happened, “I can tell Mycroft and we can sort out a different flat for you”

“You’re very persistent on worrying about someone you barely know when you hardly look after yourself”

“Y’know, trying to avoid the subject with a _Detective Inspector_ won’t work”

“Hardly looking after yourself meaning, you’ve stopped going to your therapist because you don’t think it’s working from your depression that’s stemmed maybe from the breakdown of your marriage or even the struggles of the new position but if it was the job, you would have left long ago so let’s go with the marriage,”

“The marriage that ended around 8 months ago if the degeneration of the ring tan line is anything to go by, the depression stemming from the loss of friends who had suddenly stopped asking you out on social occasions, your living arrangements becoming smaller and more quiet, your life now just revolving around work where you can’t even solve a simple case about a vengeful daughter,”

“Then there’s the whole dating scenario now that you’re a divorcee and you haven’t been short of women throwing themselves at your feet but you just don’t seem interested in any one of them, maybe one or two one night stands but nothing that is secure since you’re so consumed by your job… and also having the worry of a child… Boy or girl?”

“Girl…,” Greg whispered, his mouth still hanging half open from the near perfect deduction that Sherlock had just rolled off his tongue and he didn’t even know where he’d get all of that information, “She’s just starting secondary school”

“Of course, a girl that you’re still in legal disputes in with your ex-wife and you see her very rarely now, that must be reasonably tough”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow up at the inspector who was still had the dumbfounded look painted on his face of how he knew all of this. The younger Holmes brother wasn’t as quick as his brother and it had taken many years to get to this point but watching the other man glare down at his feet and then leave with resentment in his posture is what he needed to work on his mind palace. 

The Inspector headed back to his office where a mountain of paperwork was overflowing his desk, it gripping onto him until gone 9pm and he did feel the silence more on the car journey home. Once he’d stepped into his flat he felt it, it dropping like a lead weight when he saw how empty his living room was around the furniture. No pictures on the mantel piece, the kitchen quite simplistic and his bin showed the extent of his eating habits. He was never one to mope around so went to bed to then rise at 6am for a run to clear his head of Sherlock's deductions. 


	4. Warning of the Storm

“Boss? Someone’s asking for you on the phone” Sally called from outside his office door where Bullock had waved at her to get his attention,

“Im technically still on my lunch break so tell them that I will call them back later”

“No, Sir, he keeps ringing back every few minutes requesting you and he is very desperate that it needs to be you… It’s about his friend _Lady Astley_ that he hasn’t seen or heard from in a couple days. I know it’s not your sort of thing but it sounds urgent” she shrugged,

“Did you get a name?”

“He keeps mumbling a name like Moran… we’re not sure”

“Just give me one minute and transfer it through to my desk phone” he sighed, him using his formal title to the caller,  

“Hello Inspector, Im so glad I got you, will you please help me?”

“I don’t normally look into things like this but my sergeant says you specifically asked for me so you’ve got my attention… What’s happened with your friend?”

“She just hasn’t been out of the house… she, sh-she hasn’t responded to any of my calls and we usually just natter the day away, it’s so unlike her and I’m just so worried!” the soft voice crackled through,

“Okay, okay, have you had a chance to go ‘round and possibly see her? Spoken to any of her family?” Greg asked,

“No, no, I’ve been so busy with work so I normally pop over at the weekend for a night and we just talk through the week… you mus-mu-must understand why Im so concerned for her”

“Of course, I’ll take a few of yours and Lady Astley’s details to send a police officer to her home to check on her, would that be alright?”

“Yes, yes, thank you so much!”

The DI scribbled down a few notes about where Lady Astley lived, her apparent number and then a few vague details about her friend Moran who was fading in and out to mutter in the background. He had a feeling in the bottom of his stomach that something wasn’t exactly right but shook it off so he could at least cross one thing off his to-do list today.

“We’re going to get officers straight round to her house as a cause for concern and they should contact you later on this afternoon about what they’ve found, alright?” he smiled,

“Yes, yes, there’s just one more thing inspector” Moran threw the words out of his mouth,

“What’s that?”

“I wouldn’t get too involved with the _Holmes family_ if I were you…”

That’s when the line dropped and Greg frowned at the receiver like Moran had just spoken in a completely foreign language. He slowly put it back down, him collecting a few on duty officers to meet him at the address while he skimmed through some background Sally had found last minute.

Lady Astley was born in 1988 to Ruth and Peter Astley, her mother was a royal jeweler, her father an estate agent for the rich and famous. They were both unfortunately gone now and it was only her father that managed to survive old age until the start of the year where Pneumonia had taken him. It means their daughter was left with everything they’d owned, both pensions along with a number of contacts that would help Francesca thrive in the world of her choice.

The inspector found the officers already at the house when he arrived and his stomach clenched when he saw how grim their faces looked. He waved them off to make sure no unauthorized people came through the gates, him pausing in the doorway of the living room when he saw a woman’s body propped up in the armchair. If he’d not seen the officer’s faces, he would have guessed she was asleep with the way her head was flopped backwards.

“She is actually dead Inspector, if you would kindly step aside then I could have a more detailed look” Sherlock said,

Greg nearly jumped to the ceiling with the voice that was suddenly behind him and he gripped the man’s arm when he tried to barge past, 

“I don’t think so sunshine”

“I need to see the body to see how she was killed, on first glance, she doesnt have a single mark on her!”

“We haven’t secured the room yet; we need to get forensics in first to see if there’s any fibres or prints left by the killer before you can even think about stepping in there,” he warned as he pushed Sherlock back into the hallway, “Plus you’re not going anywhere without you proving to me that you’re _clean_ ”

“You’re just like my brother, what does it matter? I can still solve cases, off my tits or not”

“That’s not the point and look, Anderson’s here so you’ve got a bit of time to do a urine sample for me”

“A drug addict at our crime scene Lestrade, shouldn’t the first job be to arrest him?” Anderson joked as he approached from the van,

Sherlock clenched his jaw and he was steered into the nearest bathroom while Greg let his pathologist examine the body. He gave the pot of pee that appeared in his hand to the trainee, him suiting up and shoved one in the younger Holmes’ face.

“What have we got Anderson?”

“Apart from the puncture mark on the crevice of her left arm and some sort of tie ropes on her wrists and ankles, not much…”

“Is not much the blunt object wound on the back of her head or the smell of iron, telling us that there’s a high volume of blood somewhere in the room, or even the fact that none of her prized possessions are gone so it’s very unlikely that this is just a robbery or a random killing”

Everyone swiveled their heads round to Sherlock who had the face of someone who’d just been told that the earth is flat and that all the people in the room believed it. The Inspector took a sniff of the air, him stepping closer to the one ruby painted wall that was in contrast to the 3 cream ones. At first glance it would just look like a modern living room with one wall a different colour and sniffing it soon made him jerk back with a wince.

“Yeah, that’s definitely blood-even the skirting board is painted with it”

“Definitely a blunt object wound on the back of her head, Lestrade, but if you’d given me a chance to look over the body for a bit longer rather than for 2 seconds, I could have seen the head wound, made a judgement over what weapon was used”

Anderson had been stood at Lady Astley’s head but had still failed to notice the wound, the younger Holmes brother now stepping in with the suit only up to his waist and then tied in a knot.

“You couldn’t even make a judgement over _whether she was a man or woman_ Anderson, let alone what weapon was used and no-it’s not going to be something as simple as a baseball bat or one of her marble busts” Sherlock pushed him aside, forensics first raising an eyebrow at Lestrade and then back at the younger Holmes brother tilting his head around the body, “It was a padlock going by the indent”

“A padlock?” Anderson frowned,

“Yes, a padlock, like you would put on your garden fence in your back garden or on your front gate”

“It could have easily been the handle of a hammer, edge of a piece of wood”

“Not by the sharp, small and deep wound on the parietal bone, approximately 2 centimeters in length and barely a millimeter in width and if it was an edge of a piece of wood, you would have gotten something much wider, square shaped and have flecks of wood in the wound- which we do not, instead, we have the faintest of metal marks that, admittedly, would be hard to spot”

Greg was in awe from what Sherlock had just pulled out of his mind just from scanning the body for less than a second. His colleagues were also frozen to the spot, their boss taking a minute to absorb the information to then instruct a group on the wall of blood and the other group on the body. There was a lot of dirt to collect from Lady Astley’s feet and material from the wound on her head and from whatever had tied her hands and ankles together.

“That’s really amazing Sherlock, all that you just said from a few small things” he smiled,

“It’s simple really, you _see but you do not observe_ inspector, you miss the plainly obvious details that bring the whole case together”

They both spoke as they weaved through the number of forensic analysts and officers that were checking other parts of the mansion for evidence.

“Where did you learn to do that? The whole deduction thing?”

“Mycroft does have his uses, not many, but that’s the only thing he taught me when we were younger”

“Speak of the devil”

The inspector sighed as much as Sherlock did when they both spotted the black SUV park on the opposite side of the road. He unintentionally stood straighter, put his chin up a little as the last conversation they’d had wasn’t one he wanted to repeat. He wasn’t going to apologise either because Mycroft had tried to bribe him just to look after his brother, it was offending as he thought the elder Holmes brother had the stereotype in his head that all police officers could be bribed.

“Brother mine… Inspector”

“What do you want Mycroft? You’ve got no possible reason to be at this crime scene, even with the security Lady Astley went to protect herself or her status for that matter” Sherlock said with irritation,

“I wanted to speak with Detective Inspector Lestrade actually- _privately_ ”

Mycroft and Sherlock glared at one another for what seemed longer than necessary before the younger brother pulled his attention away to the body that was about to be moved from the armchair. Greg raised an eyebrow as they shuffled into the nearby park area, him warily sitting beside him on a bench.

“I’ve got a 101 things to do so you need to make this quick”

“I just wanted to apologise for the offer that I made in your office, the way I was speaking, it was very rude of me with a man in your position”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“I mean, I shouldn’t have tried to bribe such a loyal police officer, let alone a Detective Inspector- I would like to make it up to you somehow”

“Im alright, the apology is enough…” Greg sighed, going to stand when he felt the other man’s fingers curl around his elbow,

“Please-let me take you out to dinner tonight, just a night off from everything”

He dropped his arm but let Mycroft keep a hold of his elbow as he thought honestly about his proposition. It had been a while since anybody had invited him out, even for a drink, let alone for a meal and it made his heart clench in a way that he’d promised himself that he would not feel again.

“Fine, I finish work at around 6ish, I’ll meet you wherever you want to eat”

“Do not worry Inspector, I will organize a car to pick you up from work when you finish and I’ll meet you there once I’ve finished the two international meetings I have this afternoon, good day”

The elder Holmes brother proceeded to waltz through the rush of authorities trying to contain the crime scene and the inspector was left in the garden with his gut trying to work out what the catch was. He headed back into the house, him glad when the rookie pathologist said Sherlock was clean as it gave him a bit more space to allow Sherlock to help them.


	5. Our Rendezvous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that I didnt update yesterday, was so busy but I will try to keep it to Thursdays and/or Fridays and thankyou all that have bookmarked this, given me Kudos or just read this!

 

* * *

 

“Speak of the devil, I was just looking for you” Greg said when the man in question suddenly appeared,

“Why are you talking about the devil?”

“Its just a saying Sherlock… had a good look around? What have you got?”

“I’ve worked out that Lady Astley, as the person on the phone named her, was carried into the house where she was picked up in Regents Park approximately an hour before her death, the soil that was on the bottom of her feet had concentrations of Chromium in the top soil along with nickel and this was all over sandstone, so easily identifiable as North-central London parks”

“I narrowed it down to Regents Park as her house, has an amazing view of the park, it being on the Eastern outer circle of the park and it’s very unlikely that her killer would bring her round from Parliament Hill, which is 2.2 miles north of here and has lower levels of Arsenic and Lead than Regents Park”

“There was also a vehicle that I’ve yet to identify that they put her in from the Park to here, a van of some sort by the tire marks and someone would have possibly spotted the two men if she was being bundled into a car suddenly”

“How do you know it was two men?” Greg asked,

“She’s around 150 pounds, is a keen runner with strong muscles that would overpower a woman easily when they grabbed her, it would be need to be someone that’s built well enough to pick her up easily and quickly to get her into the van and then out again into her home… There would have been perspiration drops somewhere on her body if her killer had been the same person to carry her and then kill her so two men, working together, targeting her when it was dark”  

“We can see if she had any sort of security cameras, perhaps facing the park to see if we can get profiles on the men that carried her in, even just the vehicle registration-doesn’t look like she had any cameras put in the living room so we’ll see what angles we’ve captured in the house” the inspector waved to the room next to them,

“I will get the vehicle tracks molded and examined at St Bart’s”

Greg watched as officers questioned Lady Astley’s distant neighbours about whether they saw or heard anything that night, whether they spoke to her very often and whether she would have had any friends that would like to be notified of her death. He’d been very impressed with the deductions Sherlock had made in such a short time but had watched the younger Holmes brother walk away as he had a feeling the drugs habit wasn’t just going to go away in a heartbeat.

He’d pushed the diner with Mycroft to the back of his mind for most of the afternoon until around 5:45pm when he started messing with his hair in the men’s toilet mirror. The inspector had put on a shirt he only used for court, it a little tight but the baby blue colour made his eyes and hair stand out more than anything else. He’d even found cologne in his desk drawer that he splashed on.

The car had pulled up in Scotland Yard’s carpark dead on 6pm, a small ding from his phone dragging him outside where the door was already being held open by the driver. Greg smiled faintly and smoothed down the front of his suit as he got in beside Mycroft who looked like he’d barely worked the whole day.

“Good evening Detective Inspector”

“Call me Greg, since it’s such an informal place”

“Is Gregory okay?”

“It was only my mum that used to call me Gregory when I was in trouble”

“I apologise, I wasn’t aware and can happily call you Greg if you wish--“

“-- You didn’t let me finish- I was going to say that it’s fine if you want to call me that” the inspector smirked at how flustered the elder Holmes brother was getting,

“Very well…. Gregory”

Greg took glimpses over at Mycroft now and again on their way to the restaurant and he had no idea where they were headed. He knew it was going to be well out of his price range, their eyes meeting at one point when they were stuck in traffic kept his eyes out the window from that point on. They finally turned up at the Dorchester and he knew the restaurant inside was a French restaurant called the Alain Ducasse. He’s had to escort more than one drunk from their bar before.

Mycroft only had to mutter one word to the waiter at the desk before they were led over to their table, it a booth that was in the corner of the main dining room and his chair had its back to the other couples quietly talking between themselves. He was trying to relax but people who ate here wouldn’t have given him a second glance on the street.

“I recommend the hand-dived scallop followed by the pumpkin velouté if you would really like experience the food here”

“Are you saying that because this will be my first and probably last time eating here, I should eat whatever’s best on the menu?”

“I can bring you here again, if you like”

“Its fine, it’s too out of my price range to even think about splitting the bill”  

“Don’t worry about the prices, this is my treat and also my apology”

“Do you do this often?”

“What?”

“Take people out to dinner to apologise to them for being an absolute arse?”

“Not as often as you think” Mycroft let a sly smirk slip,

“I haven’t been out for a meal like this in nearly a year, it’s nice, to get your mind off work for a bit”

“You should do it more often, it might help with the stress levels but also the smoking habit”

“Pot…Kettle, black” Greg raised an eyebrow as he was sipping the wine that had been placed at the table for both of them to taste,

“Okay, it’s also good for social interaction, making new friends, maybe even finding a new partner after nearly a year of being separate from your wife”

“Im not that interested- nobody seems to understand the demands of the job, the reason my ex-wife slept with another man is that I wasn’t around enough, I missed dinners, anniversaries, birthdays…”

“Some people are more dependent on their husbands or wives than others, they have a more normalized schedule so find a relationship or marriage difficult if the other person is barely at home- If the other person is important and required most of the time at work” Mycroft explained,

“What’s your schedule like? With all the international meetings?”

“Very hectic, it’s rare that Im in the country more than a month at a time, my finger is in a lot of pies to put it crudely”

The term had always made Greg laugh and he held it back to just a snigger before their first courses were brought over. He’d gone with Mycroft’s recommendation of the hand dived scallop, which had a citrus sauce with it and it’s like he’d died and been taken to heaven. He wasn’t even ashamed to let out a small moan under his breath with how good it tasted, it being the first decent meal for nearly a week.

“How long have you and your wife been divorced?” the Elder Holmes brother finally asked,

“Around 9 months now, I let her have the flat, the car, just wanted to start from scratch”

“That’s very honorable of you but she is still adamant over having main custody of your daughter, which I don’t understand”

“Yeah, I only get her one weekend a month now since her lawyer is mainly saying that I won’t be able to look after her, being a DI, I just don’t apparently have the time- when it does come around, I take three days off work, we go to the cinema, we go shopping, I even help her with her history homework” Greg was trying to hold back from being defensive,

“You are partial to history?”

“I love it, you could talk at me for hours about any period and I’ll just retain near enough all of it, I actually went to university to study it but it’s just the analysis part I couldn’t really get right, which is what got you the grade”

“What period of history really sparked your interest?”

“World wars, Alice was doing our family tree in the first few weeks of secondary school and we found one of my great-great grandfathers fought in Ypres in world war one with a French Battalion”

“That’s fascinating, does Alice share the same love?”

“Oh god yeah, she’s always wanted to see the national history museum, imperial war museum, all that”

“It has been a while since I’ve been to either, I can always speak with your superiors to see you have an extra day off to do all that she wishes”

“Its fine, three days is usually enough and I’m not seeing her for another two weeks anyway, plenty of time to organize something”

Greg knew he was drinking more of the wine than Mycroft but wasn’t going to let a £150 quid bottle go to waste. His head was a bit fuzzy, his cheeks a lot more flushed and they’d gone through the last times they’d been to natural attractions around London back round to his divorce.

“Do you have a suitable lawyer with your ex-wife taking you to court?”

“Like I can afford a good lawyer” he scoffed,

“So you just let her get away with one, cheating on you when you were trying your best to be a good husband and two, preventing you from seeing your daughter whenever you or her please”

“Im not letting her just _get away with all that_ Mycroft, Im still going to court, fighting my own case because I can’t afford for anybody else to do that- it’s not that bad really with the amount of times I’ve been in court, I know the ins and outs more than Caroline”

“Then let me pay for good lawyers, lawyers that I personally trust and that I know can get you more time with your daughter”

“And why would you do that? You barely know me”

He downed the rest of his wine glass while the elder Holmes brother seemed to be thinking it over and even when sober, he’d felt some attraction to Mycroft and he felt it now even more. He was putting his flushed cheeks down to the wine and the food to their chairs getting closer and closer together.

“Because you don’t deserve to be treated so badly when you’re doing your best to be a good father, a good DI and generally a good man”

The inspector glared down where his face was burning even more and he was thankful for the waiter bringing the bill over to smash the silence. He rubbed the back of his neck, reveling in the cool air that had greeted them when they left. The whole mood of the dinner had been like the one of a date yet he was had been marveling over the fact that Mycroft had made him laugh so much for the first time in a while.


End file.
